


Feelings: Feathery and Flighty

by Nanna_Jemima



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanna_Jemima/pseuds/Nanna_Jemima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events of The Warble of a Smitten Knight plunge Guillaume and Vivienne into a fairly intimate relation rather more quickly than either of them had ever anticipated. Vivienne has some thoughts on this. No smut at all, only fluff and feel-good, 'cause I felt their tale was left somewhat unfinished in Blood and Wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feelings: Feathery and Flighty

It wasn't love. Not at all.

Vivienne was grateful to Guillaume, no doubt. When she had thought she would have to be all alone with her suffering, he had not only insisted otherwise, he had also insisted on helping her carry the burden, even take the burden from her.

He had courted her, and his courtship had been most unwelcome. Not because he was not a good suitor – he certainly was – but because she could not allow herself such joys.

But now? Now that he had not only seen to it that the witcher had lifted the curse that afflicted her, now that he had offered his help in taking the curse on himself, to save her from having to shorten her life drastically, now that she could do as she pleased? Now she didn't know.

She had made him a promise. No matter what the transferance of the curse might result in for him, she would stand by him. It was the least she could do, and if a lady did not have her integrity, what did she really have? He had taken it upon himself gladly, though she had been greatly afeared what the results might be. He had – with the witcher's aid – given her the greatest gift she could ever have imagined. And she had never even dared to dream that such a thing could be possible.

Knights performed great feats of bravery in order to prove themselves; in order to impress their heart's desire with how much they would risk for her. But no lady was ever truly threatened by beasts and monsters roaming the wilds. The knights' deeds indubitably kept many a traveller safe on the roads, but the ladies in whose names the monstrous heads rolled, could hardly be any more indifferent to the existence of such monstrosities far from their own carpetted floors.

What need did anyone ever have of such things?

Guillaume had done something far braver. He had risked her wrath, and wrath it had been. He had risked never being allowed to see her again, all so he could be certain that she would get the help she so sorely needed. And then he had risked his self to help her. Not to slay some inconsequential monster, but to actually help her, even if it meant he would never see her again.

No deed, no gift, could ever be greater. And Vivienne was astounded that anyone would give so much to gain so little. He had asked for nothing. She had given him her word that she would not abandom him should he end up as ugly as she had been, but he had not demanded she fulfill that promise by spending more time with him. He asked for nothing and she had found herself seeking him out more and more often.

It wasn't love. Not really.

During their evening strolls they talked. He had told her every little detail of the ruse he and the witcher had cooked up in order to help her despite her protestations. They had moved on to speaking of the very little family they each had left. They then spoke of the future. Vivienne more often than not found herself mutely nodding, when Guillaume spoke of a future.

He had dreams; had had them for a long time. He imagined for himself several different futures, depending on which path he would end up taking. Perhaps the much older witcher had given him some advice, because contrary to what she would have expected, he had not spoken of envisioning a future for the two of them together. Much to her surprise she had ended up asking him. He had deflected the question and instead enquired as to her wishes.

She had been unable to answer him. She had never dared hope, nay even dream, of a future, and now that she had one, she hardly knew how to begin thinking about it. It was all too much.

Guillaume gave her time. He visited her as often as their duties let him get away with it. Sometimes they strolled around the palace gardens. Sometimes she wished to be left alone. Sometimes they rode out on a picnic – sometimes just the two of them, at other times along with other couples from court. And always, always, he would be ever so gallant, and never, never did he repeat what his hopes and intentions were.

He had spoken them already. That they had not changed at all was perfectly clear in his every word and deed. He needed not speak them again. Vivienne had come to enjoy his company. The exuberance she had never felt, had never had within reach, spilled forth with every word he spoke and every smile he sent her. And she relished her newfound ability to enjoy life.

It wasn't love. Not quite.

He hid it well. He had mentioned it in the clearing, but never again had he brought it up. Vivienne had not lived her whole life in disguise for nothing, however, and she saw it immediately. She saw how he sometimes moved differently; saw how he seemingly felt at odds with his apparel.

She confronted him about it; in a secluded spot in the garden she confronted him. If it was getting worse, they ought to contact the witcher again. He had told them as much. Her stubborn knight had done so already; had gone to Corvo Bianco and asked for advice, had gotten it and followed it, and everything would be fine.

She scolded him for not letting her know sooner, and then he had nearly broken her heart. He had told her in the most forthright manner imaginable that it was his utmost concern to ensure her happiness and safety and that this was not done by burdening her with his own minor troubles. That was all there was to it, he'd said. And that was when she realised it. She realised that she wanted to concern herself with his troubles, too, not just his fanciful dreams of the future – his own or hers.

Upon further questioning he told her that it was, indeed, nothing serious; just a constant, nagging itch. When he'd gone to the witcher's vineyard, he had met the man and his Lady Love. Much to Guillaume's embarrassment the older man had insisted that his lady's ears would not fall off for hearing his concerns, and truly, just as it was, when he had gone against Vivienne's wishes for discretion, the witcher had once again turned out the wiser, for it had been his Lady Sorceress who had helped him.

She had listened to the tale with a faint smile as Guillaume and the witcher told it. Asking a few questions about the multiple locations of the itch – that had been the truly awkward part, both at Corvo Bianco and in the Palace Gardens – she had proceeded to jot down a recipe for an oil he should pour in his bath once a week, and a balm to use if it became entirely unbearable. Any apothecary could mix them for him given the recipe.

Vivienne guessed where the itch bothered her selfless knight. It was, after all, she who had been covered with feathers in those places. Guillaume flushed an endearing shade of beet, when she suggested she help him apply the balm.

It wasn't love. Not yet.

But it was coming along nicely.


End file.
